we are nowhere, and it's now
by amy like the pond
Summary: 'When she, Katniss Everdeen, arrives at your house, you know that it's not really of her own accord, and that you're not special. You, Peeta Mellark, are just all she has.' Everlark post-Mockingjay oneshot.


**an1.** _hey, this is my first hunger games story! i'm not totally sure what this is, but you know. some post mockingjay everlark angst and tying things up for ya'll! it's in second person and i don't know why, but anyway... enjoy!_

_[title from the 'we are nowhere and it's now' by bright eyes.]_

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_we are nowhere, and it's now_

When she, Katniss Everdeen, arrives at your house, you know that it's not really of her own accord, and that you're not special. You, Peeta Mellark, are just all she has.

You bite your tongue before you say, _"I missed you",_ or something equally as stupid. Because you missed her, you miss her – every day is the same, you wake up, you get dressed, you comb your hair, you try your best to eat, but food seems tasteless... all you can think about is her, and Finnick, and Annie with their baby, and Prim, and your family, and President Coin, and Gale, and Boggs, and Joanna and those nights in the Capitol. You want so much to tell someone that isn't drunk (Haymitch), you want so much to tell her that you're sorry, over and over again until you can get her to feel better, _you_ to feel better... but now isn't the time. Now it's different. There's a shift in the atmosphere, but you're still breathing.

And you take your chances anyway, wordlessly inviting her inside. She enters, her expression unreadable, blank. But you know that she's so terribly broken on the inside, and you're not sure whether to treat her as such. You're sure that she wouldn't like that, but then again you're not really too sure of anything any more. But, it's hard to treat a person like a an indestructible robot when you can practically _feel_ them screaming every night, only twenty metres away from you.

You haven't visited her because she doesn't want you to. You know that there was a war, and terrible things happened, and you're a huge part in them. She can't forgive you for loving her like she can't forgive herself for loving you. Not romantically, of course. Even though you're relatively back to normal, and you know only one thing for sure (that you love her), it feels strained, and painful. Even though its real, it feels like it was forced into your head and you want to be sick. This isn't fair. This is inhumane – love is supposed to be pure and now it's strangling you.

But it doesn't matter right now. You're both lying on your sofa. Well, you're lying on your sofa, she's lying on top of you, sort of. Her back is against the back of it, and her head is on your chest. You're reminded of those nights on the train (_real_), though this time you feel like you might fall of the side... but that's not going to happen.

It's been so long since you've held her and your heart is aching, pounding as if it wants to burst out of your chest. You know she can hear it, but you choose to ignore that. Your arms are around her, and have been for a couple of hours, and you never want to let go (though, of course, you will). _Real, real, real_, you tell yourself. And while Katniss isn't making a sound, you wonder how it's like for her. She didn't love you at first, not at all. If it wasn't for the reaping, the games pushing you both together, maybe she wouldn't have loved you at all. If your feelings had been tainted by them, her feelings were created by them.

But now doesn't seem to be the time to think about that. There's that shift in in the atmosphere and you're tired, and she's tired, and you just need each other, no strings attached. Tonight you are each other's, and everything seems simple.

Until you speak.

"Stay."

You can't help it. The word tumbles out of your mouth before you can even think. She wasn't even going anywhere, and now you've ruined it.

But you haven't.

She finally looks up, and she's finally looking into your eyes. Her voice is hoarse, and she whispers, "Let me."

You don't dare ask what she means as she slowly pulls herself closer to you, or rather, her lips closer to yours. And suddenly, you're painfully aware of her kissing you, every part of you is suddenly alive and tingling. Your eyes close and you kind of melt into it. For a couple of moments, you feel alive again, and, more importantly _yourself_ again; the real Peeta, not this shell the Capitol left you in. And, being the real Peeta, you have to open your eyes pull her away.

"Katniss-" you say, and your voice is embarrassingly gruff. You've been apart for two seconds and you already feel as if your lacking oxygen.

She is your oxygen, you realize with a pang of sadness. Your throat starts to burn.

Her breathing's heavy. She's not right, she's not all right. But you're feeling yourself slip away, and now you just want her again... oh no, you want her so much.

"I want this," she assures you in a whisper as if reading your mind, her expression defiant, her eyes ablaze. The old Katniss. Only this one seems to finally want you as much as you want her.

You try to sit up, try to pull yourself together, but she won't let you. Sure, you've managed to sit up, but now she's straddling you and she even doesn't seem to realize it, but it's driving you crazy.

You swallow, begging your nerves to calm the hell down.

"You don't," you assure her. "Katniss, you don't know- you're tired. We're both tired. We can talk about this in the morn-"

But your words leave you, because she's looking at you. Really, finally looking at you. She hasn't looked at you since what feels like forever. And, as you always have, you feel powerless. Katniss Everdeen, the girl who can (unintentionally) drag you through hell and back, yet leave you begging for more. Her dark eyes seem to be drinking you in, and you feel slightly uncomfortable, yet completely exhilarated all at once. Her hair is in a braid, as it always has been, but now she doesn't do it right. It falls apart with the slightest touch. And there are stray dark hairs framing her hair, right now. The only light that's on is a small lamp in the corner of the room, and it's weak glow let's you see just enough of her features, that face you dream so often about, the sharp angle, the dark skin. This doesn't feel real, and before you can stop yourself, you've taken your hand off of her hip (when did it get there in the first place?) and you're touching the side of her face, lightly, with the tips of your fingers. It's pathetic how long you've been wanting to do that again.

Katniss doesn't break eye contact as she takes your hand in hers and presses it against her cheek.

She takes a deep breath. "I want this," she says, one eyebrow raised, expression defiant. She's still broken, of course she is. But she wants this and she's yours.

And now you're helpless, because you don't even know what 'this' is, but you're willing to give it to her.

And, besides, when your lips meet again, there's no possible way this could be the wrong thing to do.

This isn't what it was seconds before, either. This kiss is desperate. This Katniss is strong.

And you're weak.

She takes her hand off of yours and puts both her hands on your shoulders, easing you against the back of the sofa. You let out an embarrassing sort of gasp of surprise when she coaxes your mouth open with her tongue, and the small part of your brain that's still relatively sane helps you take revenge by putting your hands on her back and pulling her against you – you're rewarded by her moaning into your mouth, but, uh, that doesn't help at all, because suddenly her lips aren't enough. Unable to stop yourself, you're planting kisses along her jawline, and then on her neck, slowly, experimentally. Her skin is soft and vulnerable and perfect. You can hear your blood pumping in your ears; but she doesn't stop you, and your stomach flips. In fact, she's moaning softly, both hands in your hair now. But as soon as you reach her collarbone, she pulls away and dips her head only to meet your lips with hers again. And soon she's pulling your shirt up and over your head - you're apart for the brief seconds it takes to get it off, and then you're together again. Her fingers scorch your skin, girl on fire (though you were on fire too, really), and she opens her palm over your heart and leaves it there, marvelling at it's beat.

Your kisses are getting hungrier and hungrier, and your hands have moved from the soft skin at the small of her back to her bare hips, underneath her shirt- then you both stop. You both pause, resting your foreheads together, your breaths mingling.

"Tell me to stay," she whispers. You look up at her through your eyelashes and you see she has tears in her eyes. You swallow deeply, but answer almost immediately.

"Stay."

She nods, straightens up, and gets off your lap. You're wondering what you've done wrong, a feeling of dread building up in the pit of your stomach,_ oh god,_ she can't leave you, not now. You need her desperately, and there's already an ache in your chest and you feel like you're losing her all over again-

She takes your hand and pulls you up off of the sofa. And now you know she's not planning on letting you go. She's not planning on being lost.

Carefully, she tucks a stray lock of your hair out of your eyes.

"Peeta, with you..." she says, her voice breaking, "I don't think I have a choice."

You purse your lips, tell yourself that tonight, you have to be stronger than her. Just tonight, heaven knows she won't allow it ever again. You cup her face in your hands.

"You always have a choice, Katniss. From now on, you always have a choice." And then you smile, to make it more true. She inches closer to you and mumbles against your lips, not looking in your eyes.

"Can I chose you?"

And for this, you make her look into your eyes, because this is important and your heart is bursting and this is a moment you're both going to remember forever.

"Always."

You smile, to show her that everything's okay.

She smiles, because she wants to believe that it is.

x

In the morning, or rather, when you wake (because they're not precisely the same thing), you open your eyes before she does, and she's having a nightmare. You can tell because her brow is furrowed and... she's whispering Prim's name. You feel bad because you want to lay and stare at her forever; but you also can't stand to see her suffer. God knows you've had enough of that. You shake her elbow lightly, and whisper her name. And she freaks out and punches you in the face. It's not exactly reassuring (the sound of your voice makes her punch someone?) but then again she was having a nightmare. And you're slightly dissappointed because the nights on the train got rid of nightmares.

Then again, one Hunger Games is nothing compared to what you've seen now.

Your both in your bed, in your underwear, on top of the covers. You didn't _do_ anything last night in the end, not really. You're not sure if you could have been able to forgive yourself if something had happened... But maybe you could have. You don't want to think about it. In the end you just needed someone to hold.

"Sorry," she says, then laughs. Then stops.

Things get better from then on.

Not all at once, which is to be expected.

But slowly and surely. There's been a shift in the atmosphere, but you're still breathing.

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**an2**. _i don't even know. i hope you liked it! reviews are awesome just sayin'._


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